


Infectious

by Person



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Demon Days Era, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Person/pseuds/Person
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murdoc had never planned on seeing her as anything more than his guitarist, but when he came back to Kong to find her all grown up and so sick of zombieish pop that just his playing made her pant it didn't take long for him to decide that plans could change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infectious

It wasn't until he was just about to set foot in the Winnebago, fingers itching at the chance to strum out a rhythm for the first time in eighteen months, that Murdoc realized that El Diablo might not even be there. He had no idea what the lousy old bastards at the hotel had done with his things after he'd been arrested, and wouldn't have put it past them to sell everything off. Wasn't every day you got your hands on the personal possessions of the mastermind behind the biggest band in the world, after all.

Well, it was for _him_ , but most people weren't lucky enough to actually _be_ said mastermind.

He wouldn't even have blamed them if they _had_ sold El Diablo off. Would have taught them the meaning of the phrase 'wreaking vengeance', yes, but not blamed them. The thought of the massive bidding war that would've been sure to occur between music fans wanting it because it was his, Satanists wanting it because he'd gotten it from old Beelzebub himself, and maybe even a few priestly types looking to piss off the forces of hell by purifying it was almost enough to tempt Murdoc himself into putting it up at auction and buying a new bass with a miniscule percent of the profits. Only thing holding him back was knowing that no other bass would ever be half as good, and in the long run he'd make more coin out of going on as he had been than he would trying to coax as sweet a sound out of any man-made instrument.

But those worries had hardly even had time to settle in his head when his bedroom came into view and there El Diablo was, sitting on the end of his bed like it had never been in Mexico to begin with.

"I found him waiting on our doorstep when I arrived home," Noodle said quietly. He hadn't even heard the stealthy little thing creeping up on him, a skill she'd picked up by getting all those 'child soldier' memories back he supposed. It was still weird to hear her talking to him with words that he could understand more than one out of every twenty of at best. "He was not in the best shape when I found him after being in a box in the rain for so long, but I was very careful to fix him as good as new before you came back! I thought that you wouldn't be happy if I allowed a stranger to do the repairs."

"No need to start anthropomorphizing old El Diablo, love. You wouldn't even like it's personality if it had one," Murdoc told her off-handedly, more focused on lifting the bass up and experimentally plucking a string or two. It would be too twee to say that the sound which came out was one he'd heard in his dreams during the long year and more he'd gone without playing; it was enough to say that he'd missed it, and wouldn't be going without for so long again if there was anyway he could help it. "You did good, Noods."

She smiled brightly at the compliment, then invited herself into his room without so much as a by-your-leave. "Are you going to play? I'd like to listen if you are."

"Suit yourself," he told her with a shrug. For once in his life, just for Noodle, he attempted to be polite and played standing so she could sit on his bed, but she ignored it in favor of perching on top of one of his cabinets, apparently unconcerned by the waxy residue of years worth of candles that caked its surface. He didn't bother with any actual songs, just randomly strummed out whatever chords he felt like playing as they came to mind, getting back into the swing of things after his long break. Almost as soon as he began he noticed Noodle's fingers twitching at her sides. As he looked more closely he realized that they were forming chords of their own to match him, playing the air to form a silent melody to his rhythm. "Y'know, love, I can wait for you to fetch your guitar if you want to play along."

She seemed surprised to realize what she was doing when he called her on it, and quickly pressed her hands flat against the top of the cabinet. "Oh, no! I'd just like to keep listening for now. Please don't stop."

As he went on playing she slowly began to lean towards him, the movement so gradual that he didn't even notice it happening until she was suddenly tilted so far forward that the fact she hadn't toppled right over made for a neat display of her balancing abilities. Stranger still, she was practically salivating as she stared at his hands moving over the bass.

For a moment his hands fumbled on the strings, music briefly turning into dissonance, but he caught himself quickly. Well well well. Looked like their little darling had gone and developed a bit of a crush while she was off finding herself. And was showing good taste while she was at it; if she'd started slobbering all over 2D or Tubs he'd have had to really start wondering about her.

He did a little quick thinking, and came up with the answer 'What the hell?' He might have known her since she was scarcely knee-high, but she had _never_ respected him enough to feel pressured into a damned thing just because he wanted it, which any number of public interviews would show, and she could kick the stuffing out of him if he tried. As far as he was concerned that was enough to keep him from crossing the fine but very important for the sake of not losing fans by the droves line between being a 'monster' and being a _monster_ , so as long as she could keep her mouth shut about anything that should happen until she was past sixteen and they could keep the law out of it, why not? And she was a discreet girl, so that shouldn't be a problem.

Testing the waters, he lifted El Diablo to stomach-level as he played and threw in a slow roll of his hips to see how she'd react.

Rather disappointingly, she didn't even seem to notice. Her eyes stayed fixed on his bass instead of his crotch, and when she gasped softly it was at his playing briefly getting especially emotive in his frustration instead of at his body.

Now _there_ was a reaction to experiment with. He dropped his random strumming and _really_ started to play, going with anything that came to mind. Some classics, some of their own songs from the last CD, snatches of a few things he'd been playing around with in his head while stuck in prison, even a few bits he could remember from the music she'd been working on that he'd gotten a quick look at before heading off for his Winnebago.

And _now_ she was really getting all hot and bothered; here eyes were glazed from what he could make out of them behind her fringe and she was practically panting. El Diablo thrummed a low note and he could have sworn he heard her moan, which made him vaguely wonder if he could make her soak straight through her knickers with just the sound of his music. She didn't even seem aware of the way she was reacting, which as it turned out was rather ridiculously hot; it wasn't often that he ran into a woman who was so unselfconscious about being turned on without being a complete slag. Not that he had anything against slags-wonderful creatures to have around when he wanted to have a poke without worrying about them trying to stick around the next day-but they had nothing on this strange lustful innocence that Noodle was practically oozing out her pores.

Finally his hands stilled on the strings and he spoke to her, making sure his voice was thick with the old growl that turned women on so much. "Like what you hear, love?"

"Oh yes," she told him, and had to swallow and wet her lips when her voice came out a raspy whisper. "It's been too long since I've heard any _real_ music but my own in person. All these months I've only had diseased recordings, hardly anything that didn't feel as if it were rotting away even as I listened to it." She pushed herself off the cabinet and stepped up to him close enough that he could see the sheen of spit on her lower lip, her fringe falling away from her face when she craned her head back to look him in the eyes so he could see how dilated her pupils were. When she spoke again her voice came out as a soft confession, "You don't know how afraid I've been all this time, that when everyone returned home I'd find that you had all been infected as well. Or, worse, that you had been since the beginning and I just never knew how to perceive it until now. But as soon as you began to play I could hear that I should never have been worried to begin with." She covered his hand with hers, pressing it back down against El Diablo's strings. "Please don't stop yet."

Well, he thought as he started to play again, making her sigh softly at the first note, it was something. Even if her lust was over music instead of Muds himself, he could work with that. When it came to Noodle, and only Noodle, he wasn't _quite_ enough of a sleazy creep to push her into any revelations she wasn't quite ready for yet (well, maybe he might get his hands on a copy of _My Body, My Self_ and toss it into her room, but that could just as well be to see her through any girly puberty issues that a house full of men pushing middle-aged would be ill-equipped to help her with), but sooner or later she'd work out what it meant when she started getting tingly in her trousers all on her own, and if she associated those feelings with Murdoc... _well._

And in the meantime all he'd need to do was make sure that she _never_ had a chance to listen in on 2D or Russel having a private jam session.


	2. Friction and Motion

The broken-brained moron had officially lost all future pub-choosing privileges.

Murdoc would have thought it was something even _he_ couldn't screw up--let there be a good selection of booze and they were golden--but the little scumlicker had decided that he was in the mood to find somewhere with live music so he could get up and wag his arse at women until one of them bit. Admittedly it would have been a good enough plan in most circumstances, one Murdoc would even likely have gotten in on in other circumstances.

But this time around, the band playing at the spot 2D had chosen were...

They were...

They were _good_ , damn them straight through all nine layers of Hell. A bit rough around the edges still, a good ten years of hard work away from being any competition at all to Gorillaz as it was at the present, by which point Murdoc would have spent the same time making damned sure that they were light-years ahead of where they'd been so it'd still be no contest. And they'd obviously modeled their image off the hundreds of hideous manufactured pretty boy pop bands in the world. But they still had that spark of life, that certain je ne sais whatever that Noodle went all gaga over since she'd started her self-declared war against zombie culture.

It was bad enough when she got that way over Lardo or Dent-head. At least with the two of them he knew that if he ever wasn't around to distract her and one of them managed to rub enough brain cells together to notice her panting over a well-played chord it wouldn't matter all that much. They were too dead-set on seeing her as the little sister they'd never had to even notice that she'd been blessed by the god's of puberty to stay lovely as you could want a girl to be instead of getting as greasy and spotted as any normal teenaged bastard.

It was infuriating when it happened over the guests they invited to the studio to record their parts on the new CD, but could be dealt with. If any of them ever actually got it into their heads to try something with her chances were that Russel would take care of it without Murdoc even needing to lift a finger, throwing them out on their arse with his drumsticks shoved straight up it for good measure for daring to look at his baby girl with lust in their heart. But if any of them managed to fly under Russ' radar as well as Murdoc himself had, _then_ he'd have a little talk with them. And they would not be entering the studio again until he'd made it perfectly clear that Gorillaz was _his_ band-- _his!_ \--and that Noodle was _his_ guitarist, and as such when the time came _he_ was the one who got the first shot at her cherry if he wanted it. Since he'd never said he didn't want it, they'd best _stay the fuck away_. And if that wasn't enough to get through their thick skull, it would be time to have a little chat with the man downstairs, see if he'd be willing to whip up something nasty for them in exchange for Murdoc getting a few groupies to start praising Satan.

But he should not, _not_ , need to watch her drooling at a bunch of poncey kids who hardly looked old enough to have had their nadgers drop. She wasn't even paying any attention to Muds, facing her back to him as she sat backwards in her chair to fully face the stage, her legs spread wide open around the chair back, the little shorts she was wearing pulled high up her thighs.

They were starting to lose some of their pull over her at least, ever since the guitarist had noticed Murdoc glowering at him. His playing was quickly going to hell as his attention shifted away from his guitar to Murdoc, throwing the occasional frightened glance in his direction to see if he was still glaring. Murdoc quickly reevaluated his prior judgment of the group; if the brat was distracted that easily then their group would _never_ get anywhere close to Gorillaz level. He'd wager all of Kong that Noodle'd never let her playing get that sloppy even if someone up and started shooting at her; a nasty look wouldn't even register. It'd be the easiest money he'd ever made.

At least he was giving Murdoc the proper respect. He could _end_ their pathetic little band if he felt like making the effort. Wouldn't even take much work; the whole fucking music industry would bow down and kiss his arse if he told them to, blocking some no-name band from ever getting anywhere would be no problem. The guitarist was _right_ to fear him.

But the rest of the band hadn't noticed him and hadn't let themselves be thrown off by their increasingly shoddy guitarist, the only signs they gave that they'd even noticed what a mess he was making of their music were the occasion glares they shot him. And as long as most of them were still doing well one bad player wouldn't be enough to break her attention.

Right. This called for drastic measures.

He drained the last of his drink, sliding his tongue out to swirl it around the bottom of the glass and make sure not a drop of alcohol had been missed, then shoved himself to his feet. "All right, Darling," he said, he said, dropping one hand heavily onto her back between her shoulder blades and carefully making his tone sound like he was very grudgingly offering her a kindness, "I can tell you want to get out on the dance floor, and the gin here is rubbish anyway. Let's go."

 _That_ did it. Her head snapped around so she could look at him, the band immediately forgotten. She pushed her hair out of her face to better stare at him, her mouth dropping open. He tried not to make it obvious he was looking at that mouth, her lips shiny pink from the virgin daiquiri they'd gotten her, at least not as long as Russel was sitting _right there_.

But Tubs had drawn his own completely inaccurate assumptions about Murdoc's motives. Murdoc _thought_ he rolled his eyes at him, though it was hard to tell with those blank white peepers of his, as he said, "Muds, man, don't you think she's getting a little old for you to try using her to pick up girls? Taking your 'little sister' out for a fun night don't seem as sweet when she's big enough to go out on her own."

"I don't know what you're getting at," Murdoc told him, narrowing his eyes at him. He didn't know why he'd feel like bring up that kind of ancient history. It wasn't like it had ever bothered Noodle; she hadn't even been able to understand what the hell he and the ladies had talked about over her head back then. "I'm just offering Noodle a little favor."

"But Murdoc," she finally said, still staring at him like he'd suddenly sprouted two new heads and maybe a few tentacles besides, "since when do you dance?"

He bristled at the implication that there was any type of performance that was beyond him. "Of course I dance, love. What do you call what I've been doing when we rehearse the next video?"

"Showing off?" she suggested. "There is more to dancing than just thrusting your hips, Murdoc."

"Right," he said, and grabbed the back of her shirt to yank her to her feet. "I've got to prove it now, don't I?"

She squirmed until he dropped her, then flashed him a shark-wide smile that showed off all her teeth. "You don't need to pull me to make me come. I must see this!"

Then she grabbed his wrist and began pulling him along instead, like she thought he'd back off not that it was obvious she was going along with the idea. She should really know him better than that.

The dance floor was closer to the stage which pulled her attention back to the band, though a moment's distraction probably hadn't been enough to really bring her down from being panting hot to begin with, but that was _just fine._ In fact, he guided her right up until he was as close to them as they could get, which had the added bonuses of keeping Russel from being able to see more than snatches of them that would only show up when the crowd parted the right way and of making that sad sack of a guitarist look like he was about to piss himself with fear at how close Murdoc was.

Didn't matter if the music was what made her get wet to start with, _he_ was the one with his hands on her. Music might be her first crush, the one that could get under her skin and make her gasp and whimper, but there was nothing concrete in a sound like there was in a touch. He wasn't about to show her the old bump and grind--even if he hadn't promised himself that he wouldn't _really_ do anything with her until she'd caught up with the program on her own, he still couldn't do anything with her that didn't look to be the picture of innocence when they were out in public where any asshole with a camera phone could be watching them for a scoop they could sell off to the trash TV circuit--but when you were worked up enough any little touch could be enough to get to you.

So he kept a perfectly respectable amount of distance between their bodies, touched her only briefly in places nobody watching would think twice about, and still felt her shiver every time his hands brushed over somewhere as innocent as her arm.

She laughed suddenly, brightly, and hopped forward, flinging one arm around his neck and bumping her hip against his. "Okay, Murdoc, you have convinced me that you know how to dance," she said, still laughing around the words, still staying close, and still moving with the music, "but you're doing it like you're my father, I'd guess! If you don't _really_ want to dance with me, I could find 2D. Or we could go back to the table; you were the one who wanted to do this in the first place!"

All right then, _fuck_ the paparazzi. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and as she'd just been kind enough to remind him she had cajoled 2D into dancing with her often enough when they were out in the past without anyone trying to call scandal on them. If they tried raising a fuss because it was him, he wouldn't be slow to call them on their horseshit. Say they were ageist gonks trying to tarnish his good name, if he could keep a straight face long enough to claim he had one, or something of the sort.

"No need for that, love," he said, curling a hand around her waist to keep her close. "Teach me to try and treat you well, doesn't it? I assumed you'd rather I kept my distance, or am I misremembering that comment about 'halitosis on toast'?"

She laughed again, and shook her head. "I got used to that _years_ ago. You can breathe on me as much as you want!" Then she seemed to hear what she'd just said, and made a face. "That came out funny, but you understand what I meant, right?"

"Clear as crystal, Darling. I'll make sure to keep that in mind in the future."

Yes, he certainly would.


	3. Ill Over You

The Gorillaz medicine cabinet was vast and mysterious, and visited often by all but one of the members of the band, whether they were looking for something as necessary as Russel's anti-psychotics or for something a little more interesting. Noodle alone stayed away from it, keeping a few bottles of over-the-counter aspirin and cold medicine and the like safely tucked away in her room for times when she needed them.

So it was rather surprising that when he went to fetch her to begin filming the _Feel Good Inc._ video, the two lovely women he'd chosen to have slobbering over him in the vid hanging off his arms, he found her frowning at a pill bottle with its label torn off, others scattered around her where she'd left them while digging through the cabinet.

"What are you after there, love?" he asked, making her start; apparently she hadn't noticed he was there.

"Stomach medicine; mine is gone," she said shortly, glaring at the women which wasn't at all like her. Usually she was the one charming the pants off any guests they had working with them, like she felt she needed to make sure they walked away with a good impression of the band in case they were turned off by spending the rest of their time talking with a moron, a mentalcase, or Murdoc.

"Right, you two go wait on the set, I'll be there soon," he told the girls, taking a hint. Then he reached over Noodle's head, standing close enough that she was trapped between his body and the open cabinet, to nab a bottle off the top shelf. "Here's what you need."

She twisted around, proximity leading to her body sliding pleasantly against his as she moved, so she could give him a dubious look. "Do not take this the wrong way, Murdoc, but I know you too well to accept any pills from you."

He rolled his eyes and stepped back far enough that he could rattle the container in her face. "They're _Tums_ , love. Says so right on the pills, if you don't trust the packaging."

He felt a little insulted when even once she had a couple of the antacids in her hand she still looked at them doubtfully, but in the end she tossed them back. _Honestly_ , even if he would drug Noodle--which he wouldn't--he'd never try it straight before they filmed a new promo. That would just be asking to make a giant mess of the production.

"You shouldn't let those women stay so close," she said abruptly, once she'd chewed up the medicine and swallowed it down.

"Er... you know that would go a bit against the plan of the video, Noods," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Even so, you don't need to keep them near you when we aren't filming," she told him, crossing her arms across her chest with an expression that would practically be pouting if it weren't so annoyed. "I'm sure they've brought sickness with them; my stomach began feeling ill almost as soon as you picked them from the group and brought them near us. I was fine before then!"

His other eyebrow joined the first and he almost chuckled out loud, only holding back because he knew it would redirect her annoyance straight to him. Well well, he never would have expected Noodle to turn out to be the jealous type. It was a charming enough trait on her for the moment, seeing her all flustered and bothered over him even if thought it was just a sudden stomach bug, but it was one she'd need to let go of if anything were ever to happen between them. He'd be happy enough to have an ongoing fling with her instead of a one-night stand--time had already proven her to be one of the few girls that he could see day after day without getting sick to death of them--but if it happened she'd have to accept that he still had plenty of wild oats left to sow. She could grow up to be absolutely gorgeous, as beautiful as any woman could ever want to be, but there would still be plenty of other gorgeous women in the world and he didn't plan on settling down yet. Or ever, for as long as he could still use his fame to attract willing twat.

"I could always choose another pair, love. Send those two on their way," he said, just to see how she'd react.

She frowned harder than ever, her eyebrows drawing together. "I doubt that it would help. None of them look like people you should get near; I don't know why Passion Pictures chose _them_. We could change things so they're just _near_ you instead of _on_ you. Such a small adjustment won't upset things much, even at this late stage."

He did chuckle then, low in his throat, and stepped close to her again. "You could always take their place if you're so worried about my health, Noodle love."

She blinked at him, her arms falling to her sides. " _Ehh?_ "

"Just having them 'near' me could throw off the whole vibe you were trying to get in my part of this promo, now wouldn't it? But you're the only girl here who we know takes good care of her health, boosters and all. We'd have to bullshit a new explanation for your part in the video but that wouldn't be too hard. Say, hanging about dirty old Muds brought part of you down into the filth with the rest of us, but you still managed to keep some of you out of it and puttering around off on your island."

"Don't joke around, Murdoc," she said, laughing shakily but with a blush rising high in her cheeks. "That would go too much against the message I wish to convey. Besides, I wouldn't want to make a video telling the world that you've done anything wrong by me." She laughed again, stronger this time, and reached out to pat his arm with a light touch. "You are a terrible, terrible, influence, Murdoc, but I would never say that you've ever 'brought me down.'"

"Then stop worrying about the other girls," he told her, reaching out to rest his hand on her head and half ruffle her hair, half slide his fingers through it, a caress that she could see as merely friendly or not depending on how she wanted to take it. "But I'll make you a deal, Noods. I won't bring any of the skags home after we're done filming, not even as far as the Winnebago. You won't need to worry about them making anyone sick there. Now, stomach feeling better?"

Her face relaxed a little, and she nodded. "I do feel a little better suddenly. The medicine must be starting to work."

"Then let's go film a promo the fans'll fall all over themselves to see!" he said, nudging her towards the door.

And then he could see what the set offered in terms of convenient supply closets or unused rooms. He might have promised not to bring any of the women home, but he never said a _thing_ about not finding a quiet spot to make time with one or two of them between takes.


	4. Rising Heat

The night after finishing up shooting the footage for a new video was traditionally _supposed_ to be spent partying. At least it was supposed to be for Murdoc; he never really gave a damn whether the others joined him or not.

But not this time. Russel, fat fucking bastard that he was, had planted his not inconsiderable bulk in front of the booze and refused to let Murdoc past. "Not a chance, Muds," he'd said, crossing his arms over his chest like he'd been hired to play bouncer. "I doubt SANDF's gonna forgive us if you stagger into one of their bases _again_ , so you ain't getting any drunker than you are now until we're on the plane outta here."

He'd tried his best to get around him, but Russel was too fucking fat to move and too bloody pigheaded to convince he should give up his whole plan. Finally Murdoc gave up and stormed out into the desert, vowing to himself that he'd never again be stupid enough not to keep a private supply of liquor somewhere nobody else knew about when they were traveling. With nothing better to do with the rest of his night he decided to seek out the least objectionable person in the area.

It was easy enough to find her. All he had to do was follow the sound of a guitar playing until it lead him over the top of a dune to where she was sitting in the sand.

Her eyes were closed, her head tilted towards the sky with a serene expression on her face, and she didn't seem to hear him approaching over the sound of her own playing, so he sat down a little ways from her and enjoyed the chance to watch for awhile. As soon as filming had finished earlier that day she'd striped down to nothing but a little pair of shorts and a sports bra to try and beat the insane desert heat, and she was still dressed that way even though the temperature was dropping with the arrival of night. Aside from her hands drifting over the strings of her guitar as she played the only part of her body that she was moving were her toes. They curled and uncurled in the sand, one second burying themselves completely and the next wriggling to the surface again.

When she reached the end of the song she was playing her hands stilled instead of moving on to another, and her eyes slowly slid open. A second later it looked like he'd been wrong about her not noticing his presence as she flopped her head sideways to look at him, night's shadows making her eyes look almost as dark as 2D's. She smiled at him lazily, and if he didn't know better the way she was moving would almost have started him wondering if _she'd_ managed to get into the alcohol that had been barred to him. No chance of that though; he was sure that the brats they'd had on the set that day were more likely to crack open a bottle of rum and start to chug than she was.

"Doesn't the desert do wonderful things to sound?" she asked him, and, all right, _that_ explained it. She plucked her B sting, the high clear sound ringing out into the night, and smiled again. "Listen to how it curves away. We should do something with that one day when we're making another album."

He snorted as he shifted closer to her. "Right love, do you _really_ want to put up with the heat out here all though recording?"

"Perhaps not the entire thing, but a song or two? It could be a theme, to experiment with how different locations react with our music; return to the desert, go into the mountains, go... on the ocean maybe?" She strummed out a brief melody as she thought, her mind at times directly connected to her music, then stopped with a laugh and stretched out to hook her ankle over his bare shin and tap her toes against the back of his foot. "This is a good place for you to be anyway; for once you actually have an excuse take off all your clothing."

"I'm _me_ , darling. That's all the excuse I need."

"Only within your own mind, Murdoc." She wiggled her foot, shaking his leg along with it, and changed the subject. "Hey, go and get El Diablo. Play with me."

"Not now, Noods. I refused to head back into the same building as that fat fucking bastard until he passes out for the night and I can get at the bar."

"Please try not to fight too much with Russel. It would be nice if we could avoid things getting quite as bad as they became after the last album," she gently chided him, though this time was _entirely_ Lard Arse's fault. But before he could inform her of that she was passing her guitar to him, which quickly shut his mouth. He'd seen grown men cower away from the look she gave them for laying as much as a finger on the Telecaster she was now pressing into his arms, its body still warm with her heat. " _Play for me_ , Muds," she told him softly, her eyes catching the moonlight to gleam at him through the night. "Let me hear how the desert takes your sound."

Well, how could he turn down a request like that? It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his night anyway. "Whatever makes you happy, love. Any requests?"


	5. Dream a Little Dream of Me

The dream had started out great; two succubi, heavy on the 'suck' light on the whole draining out a man's life bullocks, visiting him for a hot and heavy night of debauchery. It was well on its way to being one of his better night's sleeps right up until it suddenly changed. One of the until-then wonderfully compliant demonesses slid down his body to his feet, took his big toe into her mouth--"Err, not to make you think I'm not 'with it' or anything, love, but footplay just isn't my style"--then bit down so hard that he sat up in bed with a yell.

And was immediately confronted by a camera right in his face, Noodle straddling his ankles behind it with a grin on her face and her fingernails still digging into his toes. "That was perfect!" she said happily, shutting the camera off and setting it carefully aside.

He stared at her while he took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down, then finally said, "Noods... _what the fuck?_ "

"It is the ending for the new video!" she said, bouncing excitedly in place. He couldn't help noticing the way her bottom bumped against the back of his feet every time she came down again.

" _What_ new video?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. This was odd enough that he was beginning to wonder if he wasn't still asleep; if he was than having Noodle in his bed would at least likely lead back to somewhere pleasant. "We haven't even started planning the next one yet."

" _You_ haven't," she told him, poking him in the chest. " _I_ just finished filming it. I would like to take you for one more brief scene with Shaun, but apart from that all that is left is editing."

"What?" He glanced down at the camera, then back up at her. "You can't just make a fucking video for the band without letting me know. It's my band!"

"It's my song! Just admit it, Murdoc, you're only bothered that you never thought of making one by yourself when we were still working on things for _your_ album." She giggled and flopped over sideways, falling off him and on to his bed. "You should be happy that I filmed this part myself instead of having the cameraman come in with me. I knew that you would not be happy if I brought a stranger in without permission."

"But you thought I'd be just fine with you trying to yank off my toe? Brilliant thought, darling."

She twisted her head back so she could look at him, her fringe falling away from her eyes completely, and rolled her eyes at him so strongly that for a moment they looked as white as Russel's. "Your toe is perfectly fine; it was just a pinch. I bet that my throat hurts worse than your foot from how long I spent singing. I had to do many takes to get my entire dance filmed nicely!"

"You realize you're meant to lip-synch, don't you love? The vocals'll be dubbed in later."

"But that would not be as much fun at all!"

He snorted and flopped back down on his bed, but after a moment couldn't resist asking, "So, a dance is there?"

"Yes, and this time it is a _real_ dance. As I've told you before, just thrusting your hips does not count." His bed began to shake, and when he glanced back down towards Noodle he could see that it was from her wiggling and squirming her way up the bed towards him until she was stretched out alongside him instead of flopped over at an angle to him. "I really must take a shower, but I used up so much energy that I think I would only fall asleep if I tried. Luckily your bed is so smelly that it won't matter that I'm all sweaty!"

He could really do without how blithely honest she was about thinking his things smelled. But...

It really wasn't the way he'd planned on having her in his bed sweating and exhausted. For one thing, she was wearing entirely too much clothing, although her shirt showed off the smooth stretch of her stomach quite nicely. For another, since he was wearing underwear he had on too much too.

But just a year before, back when they'd first seen each other again for the first time since the band all went their separate ways after the mess in LA, she hadn't even been willing to perch on the edge of his bed while she listened to him play. She definitely wouldn't have happily stretched out on it at his side, no matter how worn out she was. And he wasn't going to pass up on an opportunity to lure her in a little closer.

He gingerly curled his arm along her back, keeping alert for any signs that she was about to get pissed off at him so he could pretend his was just reaching for his pack of cigs. When she didn't try to pull away, or make another attempt to rip off his toe ('a pinch' his pimpled green arse!), he relaxed back in the bed. "Well, I've got a nap to finish. Feel free to stay where you are until you've caught your second wind, love."

After a minute he felt her hand settle on his stomach, the touch so light that he could tell she still hadn't decided whether she was actually going to let it rest there or if she'd think better of it and snatch it back again at any second. "I _was_ not looking forward to lugging the camera all the way back to the studio. A rest would make it easier."

"It's settled now, yeah? So hush up and let me get back to sleep; there's a dream I want to get back to."

But he wouldn't be half surprised if this time his dream succubi looked distinctly Japanese and the breasts which had been spilling out of their tops suddenly shrank down until they were almost as flat as a board.


	6. Making Some Time

Time management had never quite been what anyone would call a Gorillaz strong point. Though they'd manage to get to where they needed to be in the end, it tended to be a close thing; a clock might catch Murdoc's eye after he'd drained his fifth drink of the night or the painkillers might kick in and dull the constant pain in 2D's head enough for him to read a watch without the numbers swirling before his eyes and only then would the band spring into action, fifteen minutes or more after they'd meant to. Murdoc was fairly sure that the only reason they usually made it in the nick of time anyway was because Noodle had started secretly mucking with the schedule to make them think they had to get moving sooner than they really did.

But even for _them_ they'd managed to make a mess of it this time. Really, they should have dragged themselves away from Manchester a day early; they all knew that the first thing that happened when they hit a new place, regardless of whatever else they had to do there, was a thorough exploration of the city's pubs. And Lisbon was an awfully big city to get through in the amount of time they had.

"Oh, fuck fuck _fuck!_ " Murdoc swore, storming out of the last bar. They were so late that for the first time ever they'd have to put their complete faith in the stage crew to get everything right on their own. There would be _no_ time to check their work before going on, assuming that they were there in time to go on stage at all. And on the night they were pulling out the Pepper's Ghost trick for the first time! "All right, _I'm_ driving. No chance that you're getting us there fast enough to make it, Tubs."

"No way, Muds," Russel replied, moving faster than a man his size had any right to in order to slam himself into the driver's seat before Murdoc could get there. "You're drunk off your ass, man, you try and next thing we know 2D'll be flyin' out the window into another coma."

"An' I don't have another eye to break!" 2D piped in mournfully.

Murdoc glared balefully at them both, before turning his back on them and storming away. "Fine then, I'll find another car! At least _one_ member of Gorillaz'll be there when they're supposed to."

"Wait!" Noodle called after him, and he paused without turning back when he heard her running after him. "I will come with you."

"Well then, we'll have bass, guitar, and De La Soul. We can manage a show out of that, even if the other bastards never make it. Hear that?" he called back to Russel and 2D. "Take too long and we might just shock and amaze the world with a last second switch to DARE with a new rap chorus!"

Russel ignored him and called after Noodle, "Sweetheart, don't do that. You remember what he drives like when he's mostly _sober_ don't you?"

"All the more reason for me to be with him," she calmly replied. "Who has better reflexes for safely grabbing the wheel away from him if needed? Most people would yank it to far the other way if they tried!" She turned her attention back to Murdoc, bumping up against his side and smiling brightly up at him. "Besides, I'm not so mean that I would make you go off all on your own."

"Murdoc, you get into an accident that hurts her and you better _hope_ you come out of it dead, 'cause if I get my hands on you..." Russel trailed off menacingly.

"Yes, yes," Murdoc said, rolling his eyes. Honestly Russel was making much too big a deal of this, his head felt perfectly clear. "Noodle'll be safe as houses. Now get the fuck on the road before you're even later!"

"Ah, you do have a plan for getting a car, right Murdoc?" Noodle asked as they left the others behind.

"Of course I do, love," he said, pressing his hand into the small of her back so he could guide her towards the road. "Couldn't very well show those two idiots up if we ended up stuck out here without a ride, now could we?" When they reached the road he whistled for the first cab he saw, and before it had even come to a complete stop he'd yanked open the door and yanked the driver out. Now _there_ was a lasting lesson for the man about why he should bother with his seatbelt. "Pay the man, darling," he told Noodle, not especially giving a shit whether or not he'd end up stealing the cab outright but knowing that just taking off in it would bother her. " _We've_ got a show to make."

She pulled a great overflowing fistful of bills out of one of her pockets--the safest place in the world for her to keep them, all things considered; if she had a little more space and was willing to pay out interest he'd be willing to make his own deposit in the "Little Miss Super Soldier Bank and Trust"--and passed them on to the taxi driver while saying something to him in rapid Portuguese. Murdoc assumed. Could be Spanish for all he knew, but being in Portugal made it a safe bet. The driver didn't look entirely happy when she was done, but didn't stop her when she went around and got in on the passenger's side. Murdoc noticed that as she went behind the car she paused briefly to wretch the license plate straight off.

"I told him that we will return his car to the taxi company later tonight, so at least be sure to _park_ legally so that it isn't towed away while we're performing. And without _this_ he hopefully won't get in trouble for whatever you do on the road on the way there." She dropped the plate to the floor at her feet.

"Who said anything about the road, love?" he asked, and pulled onto the sidewalk the moment the engine was running, blasting his horn to warn people to get the hell out of the way as he picked up speed. "Much faster than dealing with traffic, isn't it?"

She laughed softly and leaned against her door, watching him instead of the way before them in spite of what she'd told Russel. "One would think you'd be a _little_ safer when you aren't showboating for the camera."

"Safe doesn't get us where we're going in time, now does it?" He tore through a red light, dodging through the space between two cars, then veered towards a park he spotted in the right direction of where they needed to go; the grass would make for a much clearer space to drive on. "Don't stop complaining now darlin', you're the one who picked me over those other losers."

She blinked at him then smiled slightly. "I supposed that you're right, I did. But I was not complaining, simply... reminiscing, perhaps?" She cracked her window, letting the wind tear through their hair the way it did in the Geep, and sang softly to herself, " _Get the cool shoeshine..._ Did you know that at the time I thought that what you were having me sing must be something very meaningful, as you had me repeat it so many times? It was a little disappointing once I remembered my English and could understand!"

"I don't think 'Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol, white light' counts a paragon of deepness either, love, so don't start in on _my_ songs. Or shall we have a chat about Rockit?"

"I only thought that it was a funny story, Murdoc, I was not attempting to insult you. Music does not always need to be deep." She reached out, touched his wrist. "I love your music, Muds. I would much rather listen to it than my own; listening to your own creation is never so satisfying as sharing another person's vision."

He had _no_ fucking clue if she meant for him to read anything into that or was just being completely straightforward, if music meant _music_ or was poorly hiding a metaphor. Hell, he didn't even know if there was a _difference_ with her, when her desire seemed to be directly tied to her ears. But he decided to hope that it was the former and put it out of his mind; _love_ had never been the plan, and he didn't even want to think about how he was meant to deal with it if it had reared its ugly head. Instead he focused on steering the cab down a small flight of stairs into the park, and the wide green spaces within it.

Once it was much less likely that he'd slam into a pedestrian or swerve into traffic if he took his eyes off the windshield for an instant he yanked off his shirt, then started unbuttoning his fly one-handed. Better to be ready for the show as soon as they got there. "My cape and hat are in my bag, love. Dig them out, will you?" he asked while he focused on trying to kick off his shoes so he could get his trousers down without jamming them under the pedals. It would be a good way to scuff the hell out of the leather.

He assumed that she'd just set them down where he could grab them, but before he had a chance to realize what her actual plan is she said, "Be especially careful not to crash while I'm unbuckled," then unsnapped her seatbelt so she could lean over to him. Her arms wrapped around him in what could easily be mistaken for a loose hug, her chest pressing against his arm, as she pulled the cape around his shoulders. Her hair brushed against his cheek when she neatly pinned the cape into place and then she pulled away again with as little fanfare as she'd moved in, pausing only to drop the hat on his head. "All done!"

He pushed the hat down a little more firmly on his head then glanced over at her. "How do I look, love?"

It would have been very, very easy for her to hide how closely she looked him over. All it would have taken was closing her window and her fringe would have fallen back into place over her eyes and hidden them completely. But she didn't, whether because she didn't think of it or didn't want to hide it, so the way she slowly looked down his body and back up again was perfectly obvious to him, and if she didn't stop to ogle his crotch longer than anywhere else, well, her eyes didn't jump right over it either. Finally she met his eyes and one side of her lips curled up into a lopsided smile as she replied, "Like it would have been much easier if you'd simply gone on in your street clothes the way I intend to."

"Honestly, darling, how'd you manage to get a head packed with so much talent but so little theatricality? You don't just wear any old thing you yanked out of your closet for a gig like this!" He heard sirens in the distance, glanced into his mirrors, and spotted police cars coming up on the roads around the park. Apparently they were unwilling to veer out onto the grass the way he was. It was a bit surprising that they were only just showing up; if he were one of the citizens of Lisbon he'd be a little concerned at how long it had taken them to get their arses in gear over someone tearing around playing 'avoid the pedestrians' at seventy miles per hour in the middle of the city. But _they_ had a show to get to, preferably without him needing to cross his fingers and hope that Noodle would be willing to bust a few cop heads open if anyone tried dragging them out of the car, and he wasn't about to miss it because he'd been dragged back to jail. "We can have a talk about your taste in concert costumes later. For now, buckle back up love! It's time to find out how fast this pile of crap can _really_ go."


	7. It's Coming Up

The sun was going down, which meant that Wee Jimmy must be sneaking his way onto the island. Murdoc would be sneaking his way up after him later that night to make absolutely sure that the door had locked behind him as planned, but there shouldn't be any problems with that. He'd spent _hours_ getting that door absolutely perfect; it would swing straight shut again and latch as soon as whoever had opened it let go. Even if the little beast had enough brains to _try_ checking on the guns before settling in for the night it wouldn't matter, he'd be trapped before he ever even reached the spot where they were meant to be hidden. He'd made sure the room was nicely soundproofed as well, ensuring that even if Manson screamed his hideous little head off once he realized he'd been had Noodle would never go up to check on the noise.

He was sure that the plan would go perfectly. He would not _allow_ anything else to happen.

He switched off all the cameras that evening, cutting off all visual contact with the outside world unless someone crept up and peeped in the windows. He wouldn't put it past the stalkerish freak to have a laptop tapped straight into the webcams filling the studio, and if he wasn't up in the windmill yet Murdoc wasn't going to give him any reasons to start getting suspicious by giving him a chance to snoop when he cornered Noodle to say goodbye. Especially when there was a thing or two he really needed to tell her before the shoot.

She was boxing up the last few odds and ends in her room that she hadn't gotten to yet when he came in. Once she'd sealed up and shipped off the last of the boxes the only thing left in the room would be a few pieces of junk that she wasn't going to bother taking along with her, Shaun Ryder's giant head which couldn't survive without the machinery it was attached to long enough to make it where she was going, and her bed which would join the rest of her things after she woke up in the morning.

But right at that moment it looked like her packing had slowed to a crawl. She had a bundle of old Polaroids stacked up in her lap and was boxing them up one at a time, looking over each one closely before it got put away. "Look, I found photos from our first trip to Japan in the back of my closet," she said once he was right behind her, flipping one of the whole band up for him to see. Murdoc didn't especially like looking of photos of himself from back then--although he was proud to say that he made a fine figure at any age, he wasn't that fond of being reminded of just how much black eighteen months in jail had stripped from his hair--and he suddenly discovered that he wasn't too thrilled about having the tiny little ten-year-old he'd once known her as waved in his face either. So he just grunted his acknowledgment to make her stop pointing it at him. She moved on to a snapshot of herself looking morosely at the camera. "I don't know how all of you were able to put up with me back then. I was so moody that I know I could not have been very good company."

"Helps that we couldn't understand one word in ten you were saying. Besides, we had Dent-head around. You'd have to make a deliberate effort to get more annoying than that fucking git."

"Even so, I was being so foolish. I was so upset by the feeling that the place I had come from was no longer my home that it did not even occur to me I did still have one, here."

"Funny thing to say when it seems like you can't get out of here fast enough, love. Not that I blame you for getting sick of the company that isn't currently in this room."

"Murdoc, I am only going on vacation. It's not as if I am running away for good." She reached up to grab his wrist and pull him down to sit on the floor beside her, and for the moment started ignoring the rest of the snapshots in her lap. "It is not even Kong itself or the band that I wish for a break from. I don't think that I would be ready to leave just yet if it hadn't been for that mad schedule on the radio tour and all those people attempting to kill us wearing down my energy much faster than usual. Although I do hope..."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Don't start trying to get mysterious on us, Noodle. Spit out whatever the hell it is instead of trailing off like that."

"Well, I do hope that perhaps my leaving now, the band beginning to separate without any type of fight causing it, will help keep all of us from falling apart as badly as we did last time." She glanced at him, smirking slightly, "Although I'm sure that not being locked up together in a hotel room with no privacy for days will help with that as well."

"Hrrm, what a god-awful idea that was. Who came up with that one anyway?"

"As I was unable to speak English at the time, I'm certain I could not say," she replied, her voice ringing with innocence but her eyes quirking up knowingly at the corners. She was a lovely little thing when she went and lied through her teeth like that and showed that she wasn't _quite_ as endlessly innocent as most people seemed to think.

"All right, love, so you think taking off now will keep an insane drummer from making another attempt at punching my head off. Thank you for that," he said, rubbing the top of his head at the remembered pain. "Still planning on heading for the Maldives when you vanish?"

"Oh yes! I have my hotel room booked and already have scheduled time to go scuba-diving! I am going to a place they say has sharks, and I believe that I'll think of you every time I see one." She started to reach out to him then seemed to think better of it and pulled back to tap her own teeth illustratively instead.

Rather disappointing that she'd decided against pressing her fingers to his lips, but it might be for the best. If she had he didn't think he'd have been able to resist sucking them in and nibbling on their tips.

Before he could say anything about her implied commentary on his teeth she surprised him by going on, "But I think that I'll only stay there for a week or so before moving on."

"Wait, what's this now? _Moving on?_ I thought you were planning to stay there your whole break!" This was _not_ something that should have just been sprung on him now, as if she never would have said anything at all if he hadn't stopped in! All right, it wasn't as if he didn't _realize_ that she was being incredibly closed-mouthed about her plans; Russel and 2D still didn't even know that they weren't going to be picking her up at the crash site after she she landed her parachute the next day. But that was them! He was him! _Murdoc!_ And she was his guitarist, she couldn't just vanish off into the ether without leaving him any idea where to find her.

"Staying in just one place wouldn't be very interesting, would it?" She dropped the rest of the photos into her box and leaned back on her elbows, staring thoughtfully up towards the ceiling. Which had the added bonus, from his point of view, of showing off the arch of her back. "Besides, I'm hoping to find... a place."

"'A place.' Feeling unspecific today are we, love?"

"It is nowhere specific. A place where the infection has yet to spread. A place where we can go together, all of us, and create with our ears untouched by the taint of zombie moans. Such a place must still exist somewhere in the world, I refuse to believe otherwise." As if on cue the eerie echoing moan of one of the zombies stuffed up the studio chimney could be faintly heard after she finished speaking, but that was hardly a coincidence worth paying attention to. The eerie echoing moans of the chimney zombies could be heard a good dozen times an hour when they were feeling especially noisy.

Murdoc crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Usually he didn't especially mind when she went on about that sort of thing, at least as long as she didn't start pushing them to sort through another million steaming piles of shit sent in by fans in search of the few pieces that could be shined up into something half-decent, but _usually_ she was just working herself up to go out and make another dent in the zombie population surrounding Kong. She wasn't using it as an excuse to run off to Satan only knew what distant armpit of the world she'd be searching to find a place where Simon 'Shit Shoveler' Cowell and his ilk had never gotten their stinking fingers into the local culture. "And just what the fuck am I supposed to do if I need you, Noods? Having to search every island in the Maldives was already going to be annoying enough!"

"Generally, Murdoc, my being on vacation would mean that people _shouldn't_ be bothering me, not unless you are also on vacation. But..." Her head lolled to the side to face him and she softly sang to him, " _If you do that, I'll be someone to find you..._ " She shifted until she was leaning towards him, resting heavily on one arm, her shoulder jutting up far enough for her to rest her cheek on it. Her body language fucking _had_ to be screaming 'come hither' at him, he couldn't _believe_ he'd be mistaken about that, but when she tilted her head a little more so he could see her eyes through her hair she looked more serious than lustful. " _Will_ you find me, Muds? I would allow you to, if I heard that you were looking. If it was you."

"...You know what, _fuck it_ ," he said, obviously startling her as he reached out to grab her. "I've been patient for _two_ bloody _years_ , and you know I'm not a patient person. I've tried to _pretend_ I could be a decent man and never push you into anything if you weren't obviously into it first. But I do _not_ want to keep waiting for who knows how long it'll be before you decide to grace us with your lovely presence again, that was a fucking love song you were singing at me, and I'm counting that as _you making the first move._ "

She didn't kick him out of her room, literally, the minute his mouth touched hers, which he took as a good sign. She'd never been shy about showing her displeasure if anyone tried anything with her that she didn't want; the few slobbering scuzzbuckets who'd managed to reach her before he or Russel or 2D could send them on their way had always quickly discovered that her talk about being a child soldier wasn't just a band publicity stunt when she clobbered them. But she didn't really respond either, her lips soft but slack beneath his own.

When there was still nothing from her after another moment he dragged himself back with a growl in his throat. " _Hell_ ," he spat out. "You still weren't ready for that, were you?"

He tried to yank himself away from her further, but was stopped by her fingers resting lightly on his cheek over where his jaw was tense, his teeth clenched tight. "Two years, Muds? Really?" Her voice shook slightly, but he thought that it was with laughter she was attempting to hide and not an upset sound. He _hoped_ that it was.

"Rather thought you'd have noticed by now, love. Apparently I was wrong."

"Very wrong," she agreed, which hardly made him feel any better. Her fingers traced along his hair line, around his ear and she stared at him like he was something brand new, her eyes wider than he'd seen them since she was hanging on upside-down in the 19-2000 video. "Don't think that it's anything to do with you. It is... it's nothing that I even think about usually, unless it is dealing with someone who's attention I do not want." Her touch returned to his cheek but this time she pressed her hand flat against it instead of just grazing her fingertips across. He could feel her fingers shaking. "I supposed that in a way not noticing would be my way of showing that your attention is _not_ unwanted. I'm sure that when I look back I'll realize that on _some_ level I saw and unconsciously choose to do nothing to stop you; you're not a very subtle man. Somewhere in me I must have known, because somehow this seems much easier to accept than I think it should be..."

Where he had moved in as quickly as he could to steal his kiss from her she leaned in slowly, her eyes fixed on his the entire time. Her expression was a strange mix of hesitation and determination, like every second she was rethinking her actions and again deciding, yes, this was what she wanted to do. He'd gotten to her first, he could tell, just like he'd wanted to. Just like he was _meant_ to. There wasn't a trace of experience in the way she kissed, though he could feel the care she put into deciding how she should move her lips against his, into working out exactly what worked.

"Let me show you how it goes, love," her muttered against her mouth, and then took over. It was even odd for him, in a way. He had experience to spare, of course, he had so much experience it was falling out his arse, but when it came to the billions of groupies who didn't care about anything except being able to say that they'd shagged a member of Gorillaz he just focused on his own pleasure and didn't bother much about theirs. If they got off, good for them, if they didn't, whatever, _he_ was good. It had been around a decade since the last time he'd actually cared about making it good for the woman he was with, and he was a bit out of practice.

It was odd to slide his tongue into her mouth and _not_ use its length to do a quick test of her gag-reflex. It was odd to focus on hunting down her erogenous zones instead of just grabbing her hands and leading her to his. It was odd, but it was very very good, good enough that he was already thinking about the many repeat performances they'd need to have whenever she got back before they'd hardly gotten anywhere into this one.

He pushed her down to the floor, knowing that he really _should_ get her to the bed but fuck if pulling away from her far enough to wrangle it didn't seem damned near impossible just then. He was just sliding his fingers up under her shirt when a raspy voice shocked the hell out of him by coming out of nowhere to say, "It's coming up..."

"Shit!" He startled away from her and stared at the closet, which he only now noticed was cracked a little. "Fucking hell, I am _not_ doing this with a voyeur!" He dragged his hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as his mind started working again, and muttered on, "Fuck, no, can't do this now at all, can we? What was I thinking?"

"Murdoc?" she asked quietly, sounding worried and frightened, and he winced a little when he saw the upset look on her face.

"No, darling, nothing to do with you. He just reminded me that this _isn't_ a good time. Russ and 2D'll probably be barging in to take one last shot at convincing you not to go along with this promo idea at any time now, and you'd have to put off your vacation in favor of planning a funeral worthy of Old Muds if they caught us with your legs wrapped around me." Being crushed to death by twenty-nine stone of insane drummer enraged over Murdoc fucking his baby girl didn't sound like the way he wanted to go out. He stole one more quick kiss, then hopped to his feet when the kiss didn't seem likely to _stay_ quick if he didn't get further away from her. "Come out to the Winnebago tonight, if you still want to then. If you don't, fine, we can work this out when you get back. Probably... _better_ this way anyway, give you a chance to make sure it's what you really want and you aren't just caught up in the moment." He _hated_ to admit it, it outright turned his stomach to drag himself away from her after waiting _so long_ , but he couldn't say that just this once, just for her, he'd try to act half-decent only to throw her down and ravish her before she'd had any real time to think about what she wanted with a clear head.

He quickly crossed the room to her door, not trusting himself not to dive straight back on top of her if he didn't get right out of there, but he paused before opening it. There had a reason he'd stopped in that night, and he couldn't let himself forget it. "But, love? If you don't come I've got something I needed to tell you. Tomorrow, _don't_ head up into the top room of the windmill while you're up there. Don't ask what this is about, just _trust me_ about that, whatever happens. Got it?"

"I do trust you, Murdoc," she said, sounding more composed, and he heard her getting to her own feet behind him. "And, Murdoc? Tonight, could you brush your teeth before you go to bed for once in your life? For me."

He laughed as he opened the door. "All right, love. I guess that's not too much to ask."


End file.
